veritable ghost
winter’s cold crow hands grabbing
withered grey-wight sky
morning haiku
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Wink, wink–
Bite through
my ripe, pink flesh
into the redder core of me,
juicy-sweet,
crisp-tart —
bountiful, my love,
bountiful, your hunger.
Unified in desire,
thrilled in joining,
if you get my meaning.
Posted in Poetry
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Be Satisfied
It is time
you opened your eyes
to the warmth of me,
opened your lips
to the bright of me.
I have dreamt of you
since before you talked to me
of fever dreams
and red thread.
I have only
a hundred thousand others in me,
a hundred hundred hundred thousand others,
live in dreams and fantasy loves,
only a hundred hundred hundred thousand thousand others,
and I at least must have you,
before I could ever be satisfied.
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In The Coming Dark
I knew you,
before I became another.
I held you,
kissed you,
before I was promised.
Childhood secrets,
things shared behind closed doors
— hopes and dreams and fears.
And if I am never the one
your father would choose to love you,
perhaps we will yet find our own acceptance,
our own peace,
our hands to hold,
in the coming dark,
and without anyone
but one another
we will have found enough.
Posted in Fiction, Love Poems, Poetry
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Refreshing
Breathless with anticipation,
finally I see the light —
–no that’s merely brain cells
dying.
Hypoxia.
Nothing lives and breathes
behind the glow that comes
at the end of the tunnel.
Nothing is there.
Nothing is waiting.
The illusion of our own spectacular joy
was precisely that —
only an illusion.
If there was a God,
He no longer wants us;
we’re the puppy
Mom would have to take care of,
if She existed,
because He’s lost interest.
Everything is red
and cold.
Dissonance.
Don’t worry;
I’ve always been all talk.
The silence
will be refreshing.
Posted in Fiction, On Depression, Poetry
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